


little spoon

by writedeku



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Late Night Conversations, MC is gender neutral, MC is said to be smaller than the brothers, Other, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, i like rip out ur heart with my claws demon not leather cosplay, i took liberties with beel's demon form, oo big sharp teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writedeku/pseuds/writedeku
Summary: “You can come closer.”“Are you sure?”“I used to share beds with my brothers all the time,” Beel stifles a yawn. “We’re quite used to it. Belphie and I—” his voice trails off.(Beezelbub's bed is enormous, and you feel can't help but feel bad for making him squeeze into a tiny sofa. There's only one logical solution to this.)
Relationships: Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 104





	little spoon

**Author's Note:**

> yes its another obey me fic in 2 days no im not obsessed idk what ur talking about

Although you’ve already slept in it the night before, it’s a struggle to wrap your head around how huge Beel’s bed is. Stretching your arms and legs out as far as they could go, you find that you’re still quite far away from the edges and it boggles you. Now that you’re not caught up in the adrenaline-horror of a 90 kilogram bull of a man (with the horns to boot) charging at you over custard, you’re calm enough to suddenly think about how Beel—if he’s used to sleeping on this big of a bed—is currently squeezing himself into a sofa made for two.

Swinging your legs out of bed, your socked feet are quiet as you pad along the floor, feeling your way to the switch of the small table lamp beside the sofa. It takes a couple of fumbles, but you manage to grab the wire and flick it on. As you found out yesterday when Mammon kept poking his head into the room to check if you were okay (it’s a wonder how the boy makes overprotectiveness sort of cute), it’d take an army of elephants juggling car horns to wake Beel up. That, or breakfast.

Beel doesn’t even stir at the sudden light, or the sound of you going “what the—” as you stare at the comedic sight before you. Beel is…uh, well, he’s somehow hanging off the side of the sofa, one shoulder on the comfy cushions, the other pressing into the hard floor. His right leg is slung over the backrest, the other sort of bent beneath him, and his hands are thrown out to the sides.

“How do your joints bend like that?” You marvel, doing a full 360 to really get the view in. Snapping a quick pic, you send it off to the group chat. _I wish I could sleep like this._

“Beel,” you gently poke his arm—he’s not wearing a shirt and you’re not really sure where else to poke him. Or where to look, for that matter. Beel is…a lot, so you stare at his face. That’s when you realise that he’s pretty there too. Lost for words, you somehow end up focusing on the shade of his nipple and channel your repertoire from your Wattpad days, settling on describing it as a dusty pink. “Beel. Beeeel. Beel. Beel. Beeeeeel.” There’s not even an indication he heard you. Briefly, you consider telling him that breakfast is ready, but you’re somewhat scared of how angry he’ll be when he finds out you were lying. You cast about for the next best thing and settle for a little tickle on the sides of his ribs. “Wake up Beel!”

His eyes snap open so fast it scares you into a little shout as you hop backwards from him quickly. It takes a moment for him to get his bearings, but when he does he’s swinging all his long limbs back to where they should be and sitting up, rubbing his head. “What’s going on?” He asks, voice sleep-hoarse.

As you look at him, sleepy and vulnerable, you're struck by the contrast to the monster that had attacked you in the kitchen. You're not even sure what you saw that night, actually. Glimpses of sharp teeth and huge canines, claws that cut through the counters in the kitchen like tissue paper. You'd stumbled over your own feet and Mammon had picked you up and slung you over his shoulder as he dodged Beel's swings with relative ease. In the end, he'd managed to get both of you out of the kitchen safely--though it was more or less his fault to begin with, you still make a note to remember to thank him.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh,” you suddenly feel very self-conscious as you're brought back to reality and realise what you’re about to offer him. “You didn’t look comfortable.”

“It’s no big deal,” he says, stretching and yawning. “I can put up with it for a couple of days.”

“No, it’s a big deal to me. This is your room and it’s your bed, I shouldn’t have eaten the custard.”

“Mammon made you eat it. And I attacked you.”

You feel a tad irked that he thinks Mammon bosses you around. Whatever bad decisions and stupid quests you embark on with Mammon, you do ninety percent out of your own free will and dumb spirit of curiosity, the other ten out of a misplaced fondness for the troublemaker. "Well he didn’t _make_ me, I could’ve said no. Mammon doesn’t make me do anything. And you _did_ attack me, but also I—kind of poked a sleeping lion.”

Beel stares at you.

“Anyway…I was thinking that,” you scuff your feet on the floor. “Since the bed is so big and I’m kind of small, that we could share the bed.”

“Share the bed?”

“Yeah,” you’re sure you’re about the same colour as Diavolo’s favourite coat right now, all red and huffy. You thank the dim lighting for disguising some of it. “Come on, you looked like you were going to fall off the sofa there. You’re going to get back pain!”

Beel makes a face like he’s considering, then stands and smiles. “Sure, if you’re offering,” he says and climbs into the bed, pressing himself up against the wall. He pats the space beside him. “For you.”

“Thanks,” you turn out the light once more and feel your way back to the bed, patting the sides of it until you can climb in. Underneath the blanket, you can feel the heat radiating off Beel’s body, as with all of the demon brothers you’ve gotten to know—for some reason, all of them seem to run hot.

“You can come closer.”

“Are you sure?”

“I used to share beds with my brothers all the time,” Beel stifles a yawn. “We’re quite used to it. Belphie and I—” his voice trails off.

You hold your breath, waiting for the rest of his sentence. When it doesn’t quite come, you roll over to look at him and find him suddenly too close—you’re nose to nose. Why did you suggest this? He’s—he’s sad, you realise, his eyes downturned at the corner in the barely there lighting. You’re only able to see him like this because you’re so close.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you say.

“No, it’s okay,” he clears his throat. “Belphie and I would share the bed often,” he shrugs, the bedsheets moving with him. “Even though he’s always sleepy he cares a lot about his sleeping arrangements.”

“So you’re the perfect cuddle buddy,” you joke, not expecting him to agree.

“I’ve been told that.”

 _By who? Belphie? Or--_ You want to ask. You bite down on the question though. Beel saves you from having to respond by asking, “do you like to cuddle things?”

“Ah,” you say. “Back home I had this stuffed dog I slept with all the time. It’s from IKEA—uh, you wouldn’t know that, but it’s like a massive department store.”

“Belphie has a pillow like that,” Beel smiles. “He did bring his with him to the human world, though. Do you miss it?”

“If I’d known I’d be here for a year,” you joke ruefully, “I would definitely have brought it.”

Silence on his end. He chews on his bottom lip for a little. Then, “do you prefer to be hugged or to hug?”

“Are you asking me if I’m the big spoon or the little spoon?”

A nod.

“This may seem out of my character,” you say, laughing a little, “but the big spoon. Being closed in makes me feel claustrophobic. I like—” gesturing with your hands, you mime squeezing something tightly. “Holding things really close.”

Beel purses his lips as he thinks this over, then nods and rolls around so that his back is facing you. You don’t even have time to ask him what he’s doing before he says, “you can put your arm around me.”

The sudden heat to your face makes you dizzy. “W-what?”

“If you want to. It’s not your dog but—”

“I mean—I…” You do want to. Beel is all coiled muscle and sinew, but his body gives when you gently place a hand on his waist and slide closer to him. “Do you like being the little spoon?”

“Small and cozy.”

“You’re definitely not small,” you laugh, trying to make sense of what is going on. Beel is warm to the touch, his skin smooth and soft. As you turn your head, the hair on the back of his neck tickles your nose. You've never been this close to anyone before, and it makes your heart race.

“You…” Beel trails off, then comes back to it. “You’re not afraid of me?” Although his sentence is phrased like a statement, it ends in a rise that feels more like a question. “I might eat you…and…I thought I was scary that night.”

It’s easier to speak when he’s not looking directly at you. “Maybe I should be, but I’m not,” you admit. There’s something about him that makes you trust him. Could be the fact that sometimes the man has nothing in his head, and not in the same way Mammon does when he makes bad decisions without thinking. Whenever the other demons speak to you or are nice to you, you can’t shake the feeling that they’ve got some ulterior motive or secret that they are keeping from you. With Beel, it’s not like that at all. What you need to know he tells you. You don't need to second guess or triple guess what he's going to do, he just does it. It makes you feel safe.

“I don’t think you’ll actually eat me.”

“But you would be very tasty,” Beel sighs. In mock outrage, you smack the top of his arm. “You are right. I wouldn’t eat you.” A couple of moments of silence and then, “Are you afraid of any of us?”

That is a good question. You take a moment to think about it. All the demons do have something that terrifies you, but in the short few days you’ve gotten quite close to Mammon and Leviathan, so those two are out of the question. Mammon is a mystery in itself--though he keeps talking about how scary and how powerful he is, he's been the only demon so far to not show even a hint of aggression. Asmodeus seems dangerous in an addictive sort of way and Satan is...unreadable. There’s always something dark that seems to lurk just under his eyes. But if there’s a person who definitely scares you right now: “Lucifer.”

“You’ve probably picked right,” he laughs. “But Lucifer cannot kill you.”

“I’m not hearing a _would never hurt me_ in that statement.”

“Depends what you do. If you don’t provoke him, you should be fine.”

“It’s not on my to do list,” you laugh.

Beel’s voice is low and rumbly. You can feel his chest rise and fall and the vibrations from his voice as you press your nose into his back. “He is very powerful. Even Mammon and Leviathan together wouldn’t be able to help you if Lucifer decides to attack.”

Not even with two? You chew your bottom lip as you try to grasp the gulf of power that exists between each brothers in their hierarchy. “That’s reassuring. Does he attack you a lot?”

“Only if we really deserve it. You should run away if that happens. Even if he does attack us, we'll be okay. He'd never smite any of us. But you're a good human right?” He cranes his neck to peek at you and flashes a small smile. “So you'll be okay." 

For completely inexplicable reasons, hearing Beel calling you _good_ makes every cell in your body tingle. “Of course,” you chirp, arms unconsciously tightening around him. Desperate to change the subject, you go for a quick goodnight. “You should get some rest or you’ll feel hungry again.”

At that, Beel laughs. “I’m already hungry,” he complains. As if on cue, his stomach lets out a loud growl. “Maybe I’ll slip out for a little snack,” he seems to consider this for a moment, then asks for you to reach over into the nightstand beside you. You flick on the beside light and open up the first drawer, finding a row of packaged buns inside. He sits up, scarfs down five before you can ask what kind they were, then shakes his head like a dog, spraying crumbs everywhere.

“Beel!”

“Oops. Sorry,” he helps you dust crumbs off the bed while looking longingly at the rest of the food in the nightstand.

“D-do you want more?”

“Can’t,” he replies, woeful. “I promised Belphie I wouldn’t eat more than a little when it was time to sleep. He gets woken up.” He looks a little wistfully at the empty bed next to him. “The room is quiet without him in it. So I’m glad you’re here.” The earnest way he looks at you reminds you so much of a golden retriever that you can't resist the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair.

“He’ll come back soon,” you promise, feeling guilty for hiding the true location of his twin. You know its for the best, but it doesn’t help the sting you feel as Beel nods, believing you wholeheartedly. What makes it even worse is the soft lighting and atmosphere you've created--in the orange glow, Beel looks like some sort of statue—all his lines defined and expertly carved, his hair set alight. Your face feels hot and you look away quickly, pretending to be absorbed looking for crumbs on the bedsheet.

While you’re busy and with rather excellent aim, Beel tosses the wrappers over your head and into the bin next to the bed. You congratulate his shot and are rewarded with a barely perceptible blush on his cheeks. Throwing himself back onto the bed, he once again pats the empty space next to him. “Come back. Sleep.”

You're quite loathe to turn out the lights and cut short your night with him. Beel is gorgeous, loose-limbed and loose-lipped, and you want to stay in the moment forever. But Beel has already started snuggling into bed, so you quickly flick the switch and crawl back into his arms. You’re not sure what tomorrow will bring—Hell, who knows, down here in a lawless land, but, well—as you listen to his steady heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, strong and dependable, you think you’ll be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> mc: i’ll be alright :D  
> also mc: gets dropkicked by lucifer the next chapter
> 
> if anyone has any fic requests for beel or mammon drop me a messag on my twt @narutokin__ or down here or on tumblr as @frogoing ! would love to take some inspiration hehe 
> 
> (but also pls kudos or comment if u enjoyed ... i will cry)


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